In Defense of Ray Rice

Hi Patricia,

Brace yourself, I’m going to talk sports again for a minute. But it's not going to be cutesy. I tried that and it didn't work. I started to write some commentary on sports that opened with a really obtuse perspective about blindly supporting a team and all the people who play for it. It was so hamfisted it needed a nitrogen warning. I need to tap into honesty here because that seems to be the only thing left.



There are two things I love about sports. First, there is the visceral immediacy of a sporting event. There are few things as beautiful as watching athletes perform. It can be physical in ways that I can never achieve. It can be social. We go to friends for games and eat ridiculous food. I watched the Mile High Miracle at Hella’s and hugged every damn person in the bar. It taps nostalgia and hope and FOMO all at once.

Second, there is the wit. The statistical nature of sports brings some truly smart people who hope to analyze it to core universal truth. There are so many numbers that they're looking for the name of God on the basepaths. The lyrical nature of sports brings funny assholes. There’s so many metaphors and so many hooks and so many riffs that commentary about sports lends itself to finding core human truths [pdf]. And done right it is hysterical.

Done wrong, it's Berman. He’s fucking insufferable.

The metaphor and the nostalgia can also be the undoing of sports. It leaves them open to bearing too much weight. Agenda pushers make sports into coat hangers for a thousand other bad ideas. Bread and circuses and croneyism and jingoism and gluttony and every other piss-poor half-baked awful human tendency get themselves wrapped into a lather of civic pride and set into an overpriced broken seat with expensive beer in a collapsing plastic cup and an obstructed view of chemical laden plastic grass.

All this because sports is an easy proxy. Particularly as a male, where the adoration of sport is a measure of my masculinity. My slovenliness on Sunday and the strength of my fantasy team and the volume of beers I drink might as well be penis length. And I'm supposed to engender a love of this nonsense in my children in the name of tradition. It is a question of my manliness that my children know the games and cheer for the proper teams.

What is the "proper team"? For me growing up it was the Baltimore Orioles. I was six in their World Series year and twelve for their "Why Not?" season then eighteen to see 2131. Even with the years of record setting losses in between, those are enough.

Football was a bit different. We didn't have a team in Baltimore while I was in my vital and formative stages. That alone could create an us-versus-them perspective on everything. But dammit, we got football back and have two Super Bowls (and a Grey Cup, but who is counting).

Of course, this doesn’t help me now that I’m across the country. It's funny, people will readily ask if I'm going to switch from the Ravens to cheering for the Seahawks. They never ask if I'll switch on baseball. Weird.

Here we are now at the pivot, the point in this note where I turn to somewhere controversial. As a Ravens fan, this is the point where I'm going to defend Ray Rice. He was released by the Ravens based on video of his February 2014 assault on his then fiancee. Proper fandom and protecting my own masculinity demand that I find something on which to exonerate his actions. I have to show that I was right to like him, that there was some conspiracy against him, or all of Sport simply hates Baltimore. If I can find a way that he was right (or just not wrong) then I didn't choose poorly.

And I can argue those things. Except Ray Rice punched his fiancee in the face, knocking her unconscious. There's no excuse for that. And I am not so wrapped up in the traditions of the League that I have to become some sort of apologist for their employees or their response to the situation. Even suggesting that the "NFL's handling" of the case was somehow bungled says that the machinations of an association of three dozen billionaires is more important than the fact that a woman was attacked by one of their employees or the fact that they disposed of that employee when the temperature of the room turned tepid.

No, what I'm going to defend being a fan of Ray Rice. I watched him play the game for my team, and I loved it. I love having seen him pinball through defenders then flash that big smile. He bailed out Flacco so many times. Then he dropped that 4th down, 30 yard run on the Chargers to put the Ravens into the playoffs in 2012. I can be happy I saw those things and I am not sorry having cheered for them or having bought a Ray Rice jersey.

But times change and moving forward he is not someone we are cheering for. Period.

This is heresy to proper fans. I should fight tirelessly for his honor because I once cheered for him. Or I should drop him and set fire to his jersey. There is no in-between. The idea of sport is so tied to memory and continuity and nostalgia that separating the past from the present is some sort of apostasy. And saying you're going somewhere different is a deadly offense.

We have to get the hell over it. This kind of Unwritten Rule of Sport leads to terrible decisions. We allow for the indentured servitude of students because of the tradition of amateurism. We are okay with ridiculous corruption in FIFA and the Olympics because of some latent colonialism. We let leagues engage in anti-consumer blackout of local games because they always have or collude to cover up drug abuse or concussions because boys will be boys. And we keep racist team names and mascots for the sake of a narrowly remembered civic pride.

So I'm going to argue that fans owe no apologies for having cheered for Ray Rice or the Salt Lake Olympics or the Redskins. But that is in the past and we can do better now. When it comes time for change, we move quickly. For fans, the only apologies should be reserved for not making changes when those changes are due.

Cheers,

Ray

~~~~~~~~~
 

Hi Ray,

I read your opening volley with great interest and a raised eyebrow. I mean, what an incendiary title, particularly to send to me – a woman who spent the majority of her legal career representing victims of domestic violence! Being such a timely piece, I wanted to reply as soon as possible. In fact, I would have responded yesterday, when this was still news, if I didn't have to click through the eleventy thousand links in your post. Good lord, man! You often link out to a bunch of stuff in your writing - and I try to do the same so we're matchy-matchy - but these were all about SPORTS. I'll give you a pass on the HST and the Dennis Miller, but you're going to have to pay for the rest some day. You've been warned.

Actually, links notwithstanding, I really intended to reply yesterday. Unfortunately, I've got the plague and it knocked me out for half the day and then I went to the doctor.  Sorry.

You like sports. A lot. I knew this about you and even spent a number of Sundays during one football season in living rooms with you and our respective partners, eating the kind of food that eventually led to my heart attack and chatting with The Breadwinner about knitting and such while you and my ex made loud noises at the TV. It was a social and enjoyable experience because of the company, regardless the occasion.

Me, I don't care for sports.  I understand the rules and the gladiatorial magnetism, but it's not for me. I support your right to like what you like, though, and appreciate your outstanding analysis of the appeal it holds for you.  I take issue with only one point therein: that love of sport is a metric of masculinity. I'm not saying it is false that, in our culture, sport skill and sport obsession fandom are equated with machismo and virility – or that you actually believe it to be true; however, I contend that the notion is, at best, dumb and, at worst, damaging and unhealthy.

Strictly correlating one's level of sportsfaniness – or any preference, interest, or activity – with masculinity is dangerous. It's the sort of heteronormative, binary gender-associative schlock that leads to everything from the supposed insult of "throw like a girl" to Matthew Sheppard and Brandon Teena to all manner of social ills that occur when a man can be accused of and hated for not being masculine enough. What a piece of work is man. 

It is also inaccurate. My mother-of-five, fashion model sister-in-law is quite literally the most zealous football fan I have ever met. Henry Rollins is not much of a fan and I dare anyone to question his manliness. To his face. And what do we do with Michael Sam? 

More to the point of your post, what do we do with Ray Rice?  Or with that warm-fuzzy that fans have had for him for so long and now (some) feel guilty for having? Facts: 

• Ray Rice is an outstanding running back. 

• Ray Rice is a domestic abuser. (I’m not linking to the video because manners) 

• Items 1 and 2 are unrelated.

Rice's attack on his then fiancée was inexcusable, reprehensible, vile, and criminal. As one who has dealt with hundreds of cases of domestic violence, I feel confident in stating that it was also not an isolated event. One does not typically go from zero to punching a person in the face hard enough to render them unconscious. He's likely had some practice. It's an appropriate reaction to not want to be his fan anymore.

But your post isn't really about Ray Rice; it's about Ray Dubicki. You state your topic as a controversial defense of a now (properly) vilified athlete, but you don't defend him. You scorn him. And it hurts you. That's what you’re trying to defend – not Ray Rice, but that you loved him. That part of you loves him still.

I believe you come to this conclusion yourself, but just to be official: I absolve you. As a feminist and anti-domestic violence activist, I allow you your feelings. I don't even think you have to turn in your Ray Rice jersey. I just wouldn't go around wearing it, ya know?  I can understand the conflict you feel inside, but how were you to know? Him abusing his partner does not undo the skill he has on the field or the joy he brought you while watching him play. He has a gift in one area of his life and has proven a terrible disappointment in another. 

It's like me and Mel Gibson. I loved Braveheart. I even enjoyed the 400 Lethal Weapon movies. The fact that I later found out that he's an insufferable asshat does not undo that. I tend to look at these things – really at nearly all things in my past – as little movies occurring in a snow globe. The storylines run and I can look back on them as what they were: me making the best decisions I could with the information available at the time. I try not to permit events or knowledge from after-the-fact taint the joy I experienced in the past.

Information and understanding acquired later does affect my choices going forward, though. I am making the best decisions I can based on the information available to me now. So these days, I tend not to watch any new works by Mel Gibson (are there any?). I don't want my purchases to benefit someone unrepentantly bigoted and abusive. I'm not sure how I feel about watching his old work. I don't often re-watch films anyway, but Braveheart would be one I might want to share with The Actress when she's old enough. I guess I need to think on that one.

Three points in closing: 

• I know this is obvious to you, but I just need to say it. This is not Janay Rice's fault, despite what talk radio, internet trolls and even Janay Rice may say. The responsibility for the situation sits squarely with Ray Rice. My friend Louis Maistros put it well in a reply to a FaceBook commenter who was saying that even she didn't want her husband punished: "I think she is speaking exactly like a person who lives in fear every day of her life. In her mind, she can't escape her situation and so is trying to make it less frightening by pleasing her abuser. It is textbook." Domestic abuse victims stay for a million different reasons. Here's just a few. 

• John Harbaugh and the Ravens are full of shit with this "the video changed things" business. The NFL has a Code of Conduct and specific provisions about domestic violence. How the hell did they think she was rendered unconscious in that elevator? They certainly couldn't have been snookered by the tremendous concern he showed for her condition as he unceremoniously dragged her limp body into the hall, because there was none. I call bullshit, plain and simple.  The only thing the video changed was the potential that the Ravens might lose some money for imposing such an insignificant punishment.

• There is help for those suffering domestic abuse. To any reader who is in a situation where he or she does not feel safe; is being harmed or touched in any manner to which they don't consent; is not afforded the freedom to associate with family and friends; cannot come and go without permission; or fears repercussions to themselves, their children, pets, or family if they leave the relationship: you do not deserve to be treated this way. This is not what love looks like. Please seek help. The number for the National Abuse Hotline is 800-799-SAFE (7233).

Best,

Patricia

~~~~~~~~~

Hi Patricia,

It's difficult for me to follow up that response. You hit it right on.

But you ask a couple questions that I do want to address. First, Mel Gibson has made two films since Braveheart. He made the Jesus snuff film and the Mayan snuff film. Possibly he will be doing a Shogun snuff film in the near future, just to round out the trilogy. 

The question I want to end on is in relation to "the video that changed everything" taken inside the elevator. In real terms, you are correct that it changed nothing. In physics terms, it changed nothing. In moral terms, we are actually at fault.

But the absence of absolute proof was a toehold for doubt. It opened a small "we can't be sure." And there is a thread of thinking that goes like this: we owe him the benefit of ALL doubt because being accused of domestic abuse is so terrible. If we rush to judgment in this circumstance, we could be next. Some whack-doodle ex is going to lie about smacking her and we will be the next one to get embarrassed, fired, arrested, and raped in prison.

Yes, this omits anything about the victim. Yes, it forgets how terrible domestic abuse is for family and children and the community. And yes, I did just make a prison rape reference. 

You are absolutely right that this is not about masculinity. But it is about emasculation. All those things you list proving that sports are not just for guys can be viewed as Attacks on Men. This once proud tradition of pure athletic competition has been handed over to the chicks and the queers.

And reacting to the cry of abuse when "we can't be sure" is just giving in to another thing that takes away rights from men. An increase in her right to cry wolf is a decrease in his right to not be in jail. And the women just take and take and don't give back. They want these equal rights, but they don't live up to them. You asked, "How the hell do they think she was rendered unconscious?" Well, if she wants to be an equal partner in the relationship, why can't she take a punch like he can?

Of course, the answer is that no one in any relationship should ever have to take a punch. Rights are not zero-sum, and improving the lives of women never takes away from the rights of men. 

It's easy to see how terrible these Men's Rights arguments are when taken to their logical end. But in the nips of conversation that go into making up our days, a little phrase like "we can't be sure" sounds perfectly reasonable. We must always rebut that argument when it's used to mean "we can do nothing." 

Cheers,

Ray

P.S. Just because we believe it should be repeated at the bottom of the post. For those suffering domestic abuse, please seek help. The number for the National Abuse Hotline is 800-799-SAFE (7233).